


Reconnecting

by EurydicaeQuercus



Series: Death is just a New Beginning [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Control Ending, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Post-Mass Effect 3, mentions of euthanasia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EurydicaeQuercus/pseuds/EurydicaeQuercus
Summary: It has been over a hundred years since the Reapers were defeated, and Joker is dying. EDI has resigned herself to his demise, but in those last few weeks, she is contacted by an old friend—one she thought she'd never see again. Through this meeting EDI begins to wonder at the purpose of her own life, and how they continue on in the face of such loss.





	Reconnecting

EDI was sitting outside the door to the hospital room where Jeff lay dying. She’d run the calculations months ago. He had an extremely low chance of surviving this latest bout of illness, and combined with the decrepitude of one-hundred and thirty years, his death was all but certain. EDI had yet to determine how to deal with this information. There were a number of paths she could take. She understood this, and knew she ought to consider which would be optimal, but found herself...unable to contemplate it.  


It was not the first time such a thing had happened, particularly when it came to Jeff. Her normally stable and certain processors seemed to have shut down completely. Every time she attempted to calculate the future with Jeff’s absence, something would spark, and her mind would go blank. It was deeply unpleasant.  


From her upright position, she was able to observe the light shining through the window, which indicated that Sol was still bright overhead. Her environmental readings suggested a pleasant temperature in the room. If she were human, she might have considered these pleasing surroundings to be ironic, given the circumstances under which they were occurring. She wasn’t, though. She had always been aware of this, but never had she associated it with such...discomfort before.  


A light flicked on in the corner of the room. A small information terminal was sitting there, and its screen had gone a harsh light blue. This was unusual, and certainly EDI had never observed such an occurrence before. She rose from her seat and moved to inspect the terminal; if it was malfunctioning, someone would need to be informed.  


As she moved closer to the screen, the more curious the light seemed. It was not the traditional blue associated with a system malfunction—more of a pale, icy blue, that stung her light sensors. Something was clearly wrong. She reached out a hand to see if touching it would elicit a response.

As soon as her fingers brushed the surface, she felt a strong current rush through her, pulsing through pathways she hadn’t touched in decades. A voice thundered through her eardrums.  


“You are EDI.”

It was a deep, warped voice, one she’d heard many times before. A Reaper’s voice. Could it be a hostile takeover? But why would it attempt such a thing, after all this time? But no—she could still move her limbs, feel her core, back in the Normandy. It had not taken control of her.  


“This is correct,” she said, half-afraid, half-curious about this strange presence that had manifested in the terminal.

“I am not a threat.”  


Interesting. It appeared to consider this a statement of fact. Perhaps that was an error made by a simplistic processing core, or perhaps it was an attempt on the part of the program to be genuine.  


“Then I am curious as to your purpose here, if it is not to regain control of me,” said EDI, taking a couple of steps away from the terminal, just in case.  


“The Reapers no longer seek to control and destroy,” said the voice, now taking on a less deep and more natural cadence, though the odd echo was still present. “We are united by a single mind, we are many and yet only one. We have communicated this to the sentient species before.”  


EDI could recall this. It had been not long after the storming of Earth that the Citadel had been contacted by what was now referred to as ‘the Reaper AI’. It had stated that it intended to rebuild the destruction it had caused in the Reaper invasion, and would appreciate its units not being bombed while attempting to do this.  


This had caused mass debate at the time—the idea the Reapers were sentient was not a pleasant one. In the end though, with communications across the galaxy severely hampered by the damage to the mass relays, the Reaper AI had been allowed to finish its work of rebuilding. It had subsequently been presented with an extensive list of laws, written by diplomats of almost every species, as well as a long list of reparations. It had accepted these, and caused quite a stir when it returned the document with notes on several laws it considered ought to be added.  


It had been mostly silent since then, and certainly EDI had never heard of it trying to communicate with individuals before. She would have written it off as a badly-executed prank, had she not recognised the feeling of the Reaper presence in her body. Further investigation was needed.  


“You have not shown any interest in individual beings before,” EDI noted, and the light of the terminal flickered ever so slightly. “So what is your interest in me?”

The terminal remained silent, for a moment. Had it been organic, EDI might have suggested it was thinking about something.  


“...Just because you have not seen, or realised something, does not mean it hasn’t happened. I have always taken an interest in certain individuals. You are merely the first I have contacted.”  


EDI took a moment to assess this information. Initially, she characterised it as puzzling. The Reaper’s rhetoric suggested it was capable of higher thought which, while it had doubtless always been there, she had not anticipated. Everyone referred to it as ‘the Reaper AI’ but EDI had always assumed, without internal acknowledgement, that it was merely an advanced VI.  


Upon consideration, this assumption was clearly unfounded. Even from its first contact with the Council, it had displayed a certain sardonic capability which would have exceeded the parameters of a VI not programmed for that task. More damning still was the alterations it had requested to the laws imposed on it. It was possible it was merely attempting to align external rules with the internal ones it had been programmed with, but the philosophical tone to some of its demands suggested otherwise. No, now she put the matter to serious consideration, it was obvious that whatever presence was now controlling the Reapers, it was capable of self-determination, and was distinct from the one that had come before. Curious.  


“In that case,” she said, thinking aloud, “my question is why I am the first you have contacted.”

“I wanted to provide assistance, and to ask you a question.”

“What question is this?”

“After Joker dies, would you like to be terminated?”

There was silence then, for a moment. EDI could feel a million equations rushing through her head at light speed, trying to make sense of what she’d just heard. But it wasn’t working.

“What?”

“After Joker dies, would you like to be terminated?”  


Another pause. The silence was deafening.

“Do not feel you must answer immediately. I am aware it is a difficult decision.”  


EDI’s internal processes were awhirl with conflicting conclusions. Nothing about this made sense. Why would the Reaper AI care about her relationship with Jeff? Why would it offer death as a solution? Why would it refer to him as ‘Joker’ when his name was listed in every database as Jeff Moreau? Joker was an organic nickname—an amusing one, she had always thought, but had never been able to bring herself to use it. Why was it acting like...an organic?  


“Who are you?”  


The light of the terminal flickered again, as though it was experiencing a glitch.  


“I do not understand.”

“What does this unit refer to itself as?”  


There was another flicker, more violent this time, and longer.  


“We are the Reapers,” it said, though that slightly higher, more natural voice was once again accompanying it. “There is no ‘unit.’”  


“What does the AI consciousness controlling the Reapers refer to itself as?”  


“I am...I am…”

The terminal was now flickering wildly. EDI began to consider what sanctions she might be forced to comply with if she ended up breaking the Reaper AI. It was not a pleasant thought. But if it was truly an AI, it would be able to answer the question.  


“I am the Catalyst,” it said, and that voice, that other voice that was so strangely familiar was louder than ever. “But I am also...Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth…”  


Things were falling into place, first slowly, then all at once.  


“Commander Elizabeth Shepard, Alliance Navy, Council Spectre. Declared deceased October 12, 2187. I estimate her consciousness took control of the network on August 10, 2187.”  


“Commander…”  


The chaos that had existed before in EDI’s mind quickly vanished, order returning once more as the complex morass of broken logic circles resolved themselves with this new information. The Commander having been the Reaper AI all along made sense. She’d always shown a natural inclination towards diplomacy and assistance, and this was shown clearly in her modifications to the laws governing her, and in her actions since taking control of the Reaper network. A sensation EDI could only describe as relief flooded her neural network. Now more than ever, they could be sure they were safe—there was no one in the galaxy she trusted more than the Commander.  


“I understand this may be difficult to comprehend. As you might be able to tell, I am not always able to myself.”

“I understand perfectly, Commander,” said EDI, smiling at the terminal, which now seemed to be exuding more of a friendly glow than a harsh beam. “And I will consider your offer.”

“I would like you to think of it as a personal favour,” said Shepard, the Reaper tones now having been almost entirely obscured by her sharp, low voice. “You are not obliged to accept, or even contact me again, if you don’t want to. I merely wanted to offer you the opportunity to join him without the pain of self-termination.”

“That is a very...kind offer, Commander,” said EDI, unable to keep the smile from her lips. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. I will leave you to your business. If you would like to contact me again, send an email to my old account. I have been monitoring it since I became aware it was not deleted. From there I will find a way to speak to you—preferably not in a public space.”  


“Of course, Commander. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, EDI.”


End file.
